A Perfect Kind of Life
by messyfeathers
Summary: an ongoing collection of lighthearted, post-Condos Cecilos oneshots. each chapter is centered around a different theme and contains enough fluff to cause severe dental decay.
1. House Hunting

_****__Author Notes: this is going to be a collection of single-chapter stories based on Cecilos prompts I receive over at my tumblr. the chapters don't have to be read in order, since all they really share are my same versions of Cecil and Carlos. Night Vale belongs to commonplacebooks._

* * *

_Since Carlos already knew that Night Vale realtors live in the stomachs of deer, it really shouldn't have surprised him that house hunting wouldn't be exactly what he expected either._

* * *

"What's this?" Cecil asked as he leaned around Carlos to set a mug of tea on the table. A bit of the liquid sloshed onto the paper he was gesturing towards since he had still not quite adjusted to the extra six inch height difference. With a scrambled apology, he quickly dabbed at the paper with the sleeve of his sweater, taking note of several addresses circled in illicit scarlet pen. "What are the circled ones?"

"They're houses for sale. The red circles are the ones that are approved to be spirit-free," Carlos explained, pointing towards highlighted numbers. "I thought we could at least start looking for the right house." Cecil set the paper gently back onto the table with a light chuckle.

"Carlos, we don't find the right house. The right house will find us."

"All the same, shouldn't we get in touch with a realtor? How exactly do we do that anyway? Do they carry phones, or do we scour the highway at dusk?" Carlos couldn't help the tinge of sarcasm, but as usual Cecil understood the comment as absolute sincerity.

"Carrier pigeon, actually. I can send out the message when I get to the station. We won't need a list." Carlos slid the splotchy paper towards Cecil anyway. He laughed again, leaning down to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to send some suggestions along."

* * *

Carlos was walking to work when he heard his name in an eerie whisper. Out of instinct, he froze and spun in a circle to find the source. The whisper seemed to emanate from one of the houses, a small bungalow with cracking stucco and a sunset orange paint job. After the incidents at Desert Creek, Carlos had thoroughly checked several of the surrounding neighborhoods, including this one, and could confirm that the particular house definitely existed. The street was empty in both directions and bizarrely quiet. When he took a tentative step forward and no whisper stopped him, he shrugged and continued on for another half block.

"You should have investigated," a tree chided him.

"Isn't that what scientists are supposed to do after all?" the manhole agreed. Carlos rolled his eyes and pulled up with a sigh. Of all the things he was becoming accustomed to in Night Vale, he still couldn't quite adjust to the omnipresence of the secret police.

"I'm already late for work."

"Just go have a peek," the manhole urged. "There could be something scientifically interesting in that house."

"Or it could be nothing," the scientist pointed out as he attempted to continue walking. The officer hidden in the branches of the tree shoved a slender branch down until it swung into the scientist's face and knocked his glasses off onto the sidewalk. "_Alright_, alright. I'll go take a look." He shot a glare towards the tree as he marched back the way he had come and up the steps to the door of the house. Everything looked normal from the outside. He was just about to press the doorbell when the front door swung open and in one smooth motion he was swept inside.

There was no way out. He had decided after a brief investigation, two hours of pounding on the doors from the inside, trying to yell for help, and attempting to open all the first-story windows that there was simply no way out of the house. None of his calls were being answered, or his texts for that matter. In resignation, he had settled himself cross-legged in the entryway like a petulant child and decided to focus his frustration into glaring an imaginary hole through the stalwart front door for an indeterminate amount of time.

"Nice floors, aren't they?" Cecil commented with a whistle. With a jolt of surprise, Carlos scrambled to his feet.

"Cecil! You got my message. I wasn't sure they were going through; my phone started leaking after the first two texts. How did you get in? Is there another door I missed? Can we get out the same way?" Cecil gave him a funny look.

"Get out? Don't you want to at least take a look around?" Carlos glanced around at the house, slowly realizing exactly why they were there. "I mean, we don't _have_ to, but I guess I thought you wanted to go house hunting today…" Carlos reached out and took his hand in an attempt to erase the disappointment on Cecil's face.

"I haven't seen upstairs yet," he offered with a smile.

* * *

"So what do you think? Haven't you just fallen in _love_ with it?" Cecil bubbled as they finally made their way back to the living room. The house was older, and everything tilted slightly towards the left. There were carved shapes in the wood on the baseboards and a faint moaning sound that seemed to come from the house itself.

"I like it. I like the extra guest room and the bathrooms are all nice sizes, but I'm fairly sure it's haunted, and I think the foundation's a little skewed. And do we even know how much it is?"

"How do we know the ghosts aren't friendly?" Cecil countered. "And we can adjust to living at a gentle tilt." He repositioned himself behind Carlos, wrapping his arms around the smaller man's waist and leaning down to perch his chin on his shoulder. "But can't you see it?" he whispered in his most alluring tones. "We could put the tv there," he gestured with a hand, "and this is where we'd put the sofa. And this is where we'll sit and have pancakes on the weekends, and maybe we could use the spare room to set up some of your equipment so you wouldn't have to work so late all the time. It's the right house, Carlos. It _chose_ us, after all." The words became pictures, impressions of an imperfectly perfect hypothetical life in the little house.

"It does have nice floors," Carlos conceded with a grin. "But we can't afford this place. You're working for scrips, and I'm on government stipends. How could we possibly make it work?" Cecil trailed little kisses behind his ear and down the side of his neck.

"We'll figure it out. Don't worry," he murmured enchantingly.

Carlos took Cecil's advice. He didn't worry when the black envelope holding the contract for a little too high a lease appeared in his mailbox one morning. He didn't worry when the movers dropped a box of flasks with a nauseating shatter. He didn't even worry when the house's doors all slammed in supernatural protest to their intrusion. After the first long day of moving in, as he collapsed exhausted into his boyfriend's arms and they cuddled on _their_ overstuffed sofa in _their_ living room watching re-runs of game shows on _their_ tv, he knew Cecil had been right. The right house had chosen them after all, and whatever happened now they'd figure it out together.

* * *

_End Notes: I've read a lot of super-cute house hunting fics, so I thought I'd give it a shot as well! :]_


	2. Kind of a Scientist

_Kind of a Scientist: aka the day Carlos learned his lesson about leaving his glasses simply lying about._

* * *

_Crunch!_

Cecil froze mid-step to gently set the little tray of coffee and oatmeal on the dresser. With a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach he reached down and lifted the broken frames of his boyfriend's glasses from the little pool of shattered glass on the carpet. He had managed to be so sneaky about waking up early to make breakfast in bed, but the sound had woken Carlos. The scientist fumbled on his bedside table for his glasses before pausing with suspicion.

"Cecil, what was that sound?"

"It may have been your glasses…" Cecil offered the two halves of the frames for inspection. "I'm so sorry, I didn't even watch where I was going." Carlos sighed and set the twisted wire and glass carefully next to his alarm clock on the little table.

"It's alright. I'm overdue for a new prescription anyway. For today I can wear my old backup pair."

"Do you keep them in the closet?" Cecil asked hesitantly. "In a transparent navy blue case?" Carlos cast another suspicious glance in his boyfriend's direction as he climbed out of bed.

"Yes. Why?"

"I'm so sorry, Carlos. I didn't know they were yours. I had really big glasses in the 90s, so when I saw them I just assumed they were mine, and I was doing some cleaning - you know - I just have _so much junk_, so I was trying to get rid of a few things and-" Carlos quieted the flow of words with a kiss to his nose.

"Honey, it's okay." He smiled reassuringly. "Accidents happen all the time. Honestly this one seems less your fault and more mine for forgetting to pick up my stuff last night. I'll just call and try to set up an appointment for this afternoon at the optometrist." Carlos gave Cecil another kiss before crossing back to the dresser and pulling out a neatly folded lab coat and jeans.

"How bad is your eyesight anyway?" Cecil asked as he stirred an unhealthy amount of sweetener into his coffee. Carlos scrutinized him across their little bedroom for a long moment before replying.

"I can't even tell what color your eyes are from here," he finally admitted. "You're more just a general-" he motioned vaguely with his free hand "blur." Cecil let out a whistle before taking a sip of his coffee.

* * *

It was a lovely spring day outside. The birds were screeching softly at a safe distance, the sun shining warmly in the taupe sky, and as it was a Tuesday the lab next to Big Rico's happened to only be a short five-block walk from their house. Motivated partly by the delightful weather and mostly by guilt, Cecil had decided to walk Carlos to work. At the corner across from the lab, Cecil stopped and leaned over expectantly for a kiss goodbye. Instead, Carlos seemed thoroughly confused at the abrupt end to their commute.

"Is this your stop?" Cecil hinted after a moment. The scientist's cheeks flushed deep red.

"I'm still not used to the streets changing every day," he said quickly, squinting uneasily at the surrounding buildings.

"It does take some getting used to, but that's why it's easier to just watch the street signs instead." Cecil eyed him carefully for a moment. "What does that sign say?" He pointed to the green signpost only a few feet away.

"Bergamot Street."

"Yes, because that's the street of your laboratory." Taking Carlos by the sleeve, he tugged him sideways until they were facing the sign for the intersecting avenue. "What does this one say?" The scientist's mouth opened briefly before snapping shut without a reply. "Oh my god, you're practically blind."

"I am not blind!" Carlos interjected.

"How are you going to function at work if they can't get you into an appointment until tomorrow? Maybe I should come with you." For a moment, Carlos hesitated, sizing up the blurry shape next to him. Cecil was not the most scientifically inclined person in the world, but as he peered up at the even blurrier street sign he decided there was no way he would make it through the day without a little help. Besides, how much trouble could Cecil get into?

Although he had visited the lab several times before, Cecil's enthusiasm for science never seemed to diminish. It took a full twenty minutes for him to finish asking questions and officially declare every instrument whose name he could pronounce to be '_super neat!_' Every time he would always settle for alternating between fascination with the perpetually-active seismometer, and infatuation with the spinny stools pulled up to the exam tables. He was not, however, quite as enthralled with the microscope he had spent the last ten minutes staring through at his boyfriend's request.

"The one shaped like a shoe just touched the blue spiral one. I think it's going to absorb - oh wait, those are teeth. Um. I suppose it's _eating_ more than absorbing. Either way the cute little swirly one's dead." Across the table, one of the scientists - a heavyset middle-aged biophysicist named Janelle - scribbled down a transcript of his observations. "Carlos, this is freaking me out, can I do something else?"

"Absolutely. We just wanted to know if the specks we found in the sauce packets at Taco Bell were parasitic. It appears we were right!" Cecil's face blanched immediately. "How about chemistry, I had a formula written in this." Carlos handed him a memo book and flipped it open to a page stained with an oozing gray mucus. "I'm working to recreate the gelatinous substance we found in the clocks. It has an extraordinary potential energy when heated that could be used to power advanced machinery." Carlos opened a cabinet and pulled out several test tubes and flasks filled with a rainbow assortment of liquids and powders. Cecil read off the list of chemical compounds and instructions, trying not to be distracted by the various reactions each addition caused. "You're sure it says Chlorine?"

"Of course. '_Cl_' is for Chlorine, right?" Cecil carefully traced the last compound on the list with a fingertip just to be sure. With a shrug, Carlos added a few drops of chlorine to the vortex mixer. Surely he had carefully checked and double-checked the compatibility of all the compounds before writing the equation down into the notes. "Oh wait, _maybe_ it's _C_ and _I_ for Carbon and Iodine."

The hood fan cleared the worst of the fumes away. When he inhaled too deeply, Carlos could still feel the burn of the toxic mixture in his lungs, but Cecil already felt guilty enough. Even though he was seated on one of the spinny stools, his legs hung limply a few inches off the ground as he stared at his shoes. Carlos reached over and rested a hand on his knee. "I have horrible handwriting. It's hard for people to read."

"I'm your boyfriend. I should be able to at least tell your _I_'s from your _L_'s."

"Honey, Carlos can't even read Carlos's handwriting," Janelle chimed as she carefully finished mopping up spilled chemicals from the incident. Cecil smiled faintly. "In fact," Janelle continued, "for a whole month Jake - the geochronologist - he would order pizzas from Rico's and just sign the bill with a C and a bunch of little bumps." Her story was punctuated with hand motions made all the more dramatic by the presence of long, midnight blue acrylic nails that managed to survive the chemical spill unscathed. "We had free pizza every day for four weeks."

"Free for you!" Carlos objected. "I always wondered why I started getting higher rent charges." Cecil just laughed as he began to spin lazily again. Of all the citizens in Night Vale, the team of scientists that came to town with Carlos were some of his favorites. "Want to help me with one more experiment?" Carlos offered, handing Cecil another identical memo book. "This one has nothing dangerous. I just finished tweaking my gravimeter into an anti-gravimeter, and I was working last night to calculate the optimal level for operation. It should be on the last page."

"7," Cecil translated from the messy scrawl of notes.

"You're absolutely sure it says _7_ and not_ 1_?" Cecil scrutinized the scratchy numbers, even showing Janelle for a second opinion. With a deep breath, Carlos dialed the machine to seven and switched on the power circuit.

* * *

"I'm sorry I shut down your lab," Cecil whimpered as he sat down on the porch steps of their house, a glass of lemonade in hand for each of them. "I thought I could help since it was all my fault to begin with. Everything today has been my fault except, well, possibly that last one; really, Carlos, who hooks the tails of their _1_'s?"

"It's the sentiment that counts," the scientist assured him after a swallow of the cool drink. "I appreciated the effort."

"My first day in the laboratory and I not only caused a minor chemical explosion, but also indirectly sparked a power surge that took out the electricity for the entire city block. I'm a disgrace to science," Cecil remarked morosely with a shake of his head.

"Well, you're not technically a scientist, so I don't think you're disgracing anything."

"I'm kind of a scientist," Cecil corrected. Carlos never fought Cecil on that point, due to the fact that every time he claimed to be a scientist he practically beamed with pride. Instead, he just sipped at his lemonade.

"Well, there are other things that you are too, and you're wonderful at all of them. Like a radio broadcaster. You're great at using your voice. And you're a fantastic reporter. You observe the things around you and then you translate what you see into a language that paints it vividly to your listeners. That's talent, and it's just as important as science." Cecil shrugged demurely, a bashful smile across his face. After a while of just enjoying the quiet evening together, Carlos began to rub at his eyes.

"You alright?"

"It's just a headache."

"Why don't you close your eyes for a while?" Cecil suggested.

"Because the sun's been so sporadic lately. I don't want to miss a sunset when we do get one." Cecil pushed himself to his knees and scooted until he could position himself behind Carlos, weaving his fingers gently through the scientist's hair.

"Why don't you close your eyes," he whispered again, leaning down to place a kiss precisely where the headache hurt the worst, "and let me do something I'm actually good at. Close your eyes, and let me tell you what I see."

* * *

_End Notes: I made up all the science in this so what is accuracy? I've always wanted an excuse to write Cecil attempting science, and this seemed the perfect opportunity!_


	3. White Sands

_Carlos and Cecil are spending date night at the White Sand Ice Cream Shop. As with most things, however, ice cream in Night Vale is anything but normal._

* * *

"Would you feel better about splitting a sundae instead of single scoops?" Cecil asked a little desperately. The two had stood staring at the shiny new neon menu in the White Sand Ice Cream Shop for an obscene amount of time trying to decide what type of dessert to share. Carlos kept waving impatient couples ahead of them in line until he could locate something that looked at least partially edible on the menu. "Do you want to try an Obsidian Sorbet? Or how does the Cactus Blood Sundae sound?" The scientist bit his tongue to keep the word _weird_ from escaping. He had sworn to never use the word as a descriptor again ever since the night he accidentally let it slip right at the start of their relationship when he'd first seen the strange full moon tattoo on the back of Cecil's hand shift into an eclipse. The hurt look on his date's face had prompted the scientist to permanently erase any derogatory descriptors from his vocabulary when it came to Night Vale.

"Can't we just get a chocolate milkshake or something?" he countered instead. "Or maybe strawberry, with whipped cream on top." Cecil's nose wrinkled in distaste.

"Strawberries? In a milkshake? With whipped cream? Not to be dogmatic, but that sounds - well - _unappetizing_." Carlos waved another couple ahead of them in line and scanned the menu once more, willing a decent option to appear amidst the questionable selections. "Ooh, Secret Beef!" Cecil chimed suddenly. "There are just _so_ many flavors, so it's hard to say for sure, but I think Secret Beef just might be my favorite. Do you want to split one of those?" As he peered over at Carlos, Cecil pressed his lips together, chewing ever so slightly on them before slowly allowing them to slip apart again. It was a tiny, unconscious habit he practiced when he was being flirtatious or coy or shy or a mischievous mixture of the three. Carlos suspected that Cecil knew precisely how charming the little quirk was, and exactly how much he could never refuse anything Cecil asked when he asked in such an endearing way. Against the scientist's better judgement he nodded, giving his date's hand a squeeze before slipping out of line to go find them a booth.

The milkshake was puce. There was a little dollop of cream on top, and a sprinkle of what Cecil said was a type of gouda. The gurgles and bubbles and swirls beneath the surface were visible through the sides of the ornate glass. "What makes the beef secret?" Carlos asked uncertainly as he tapped the frosty container. Cecil shrugged.

"I suppose that _is_ the secret. Trust me, it's delicious." He watched carefully as Carlos took the tiniest sip physically possible, tasted it cautiously, swallowed, and took a second larger sip. "Isn't it the best?"

It was definitely weird. But it wasn't horrible or completely repulsive. The milkshake tasted savory, smoky almost, and absolutely nothing like beef. It was actually almost _good_ in an odd way. Since Cecil looked thrilled and expectant for a rave review, Carlos couldn't resist stretching the truth just slightly.

"It's neat!" Cecil's features lit up, the tips of his ears going pink as they did every time Carlos tucked the word into conversation.

"Here, if you like it that much, you can have this one. I'll go order another." The milkshake really was good, but perhaps exaggeration hadn't been the best idea. Carlos reached out and snatched Cecil's hand before he could slip out of the booth.

"No, no, this is perfect." Cecil grinned and took a sip of the milkshake through the second straw peeking through the whipped cream on his side of the glass. The tip of the foam just touched his nose, leaving a tiny white dollop to obscure the little dense patch of freckles beneath.

"You do like it though?" Carlos must have been staring because Cecil tilted his head curiously to one side as he asked the question. Again the scientist suspected that Cecil knew just how adorable he looked at the moment, because there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Unable to resist the temptation, Carlos leaned across the little table and kissed the bit of cream off Cecil's nose. It occurred to him that he had seen this exact scenario play out in a hundred romantic comedies. Perhaps there was a statistical probability that the music from a jukebox mixed with a shared dessert was likely to cause romantic attraction, or perhaps Cecil just had a habit of making him feel like a gawky teenage protagonist with a crush. Either way, he couldn't stop the bashful grin that spread across his face as he settled back against the mint green vinyl of the booth.

"I think I like you even more."

* * *

_End Notes: this was cheesy and I wish I could say I was sorry, but I'm really really not. also it was fun to come up with ice cream flavors worthy of sale at the White Sand!_


	4. Counting Stars

_Of all the places to spend a sleepless night, the rooftop is definitely the best._

* * *

Night Vale's stars are beautiful. The desert nights are often clear and bright, creating the perfect setting for watching the light of the distant, dying suns. That's what stars are after all - the slow decay of the universe on display. Cecil thought that was beautiful. Stars have the unique effect of making life itself and all it's little nuances - hesitancy, pain, fear - all seem so very small and insignificant. Cecil thought that was beautiful too. The scuff of socks against the shingles drew his eyes and thoughts away from the blanket of stars overhead to the shape settling next to him on the darkened rooftop.

"Isn't being insomniatic _my_ job?" the scientist smirked. Cecil hadn't realized how cool the evening air was until his boyfriend's warm body was snuggled sufficiently close against his own.

"With a view like this, who needs sleep?" he replied easily. Carlos wriggled a moment more before propping himself up on an elbow and studying Cecil carefully.

"I agree the rooftop is by far the best part of the house, but why aren't you sleeping?" When Cecil stayed quiet, Carlos tried again gently. "Is it something you want to talk about?"

"It's just questions. Lots and lots of questions," Cecil breathed, directing his attention back to the myriad of glistening freckles stretched across the dark sky. "About the near future, what's coming next. And work. And the long distant future. And stars."

"I don't know if I have any answers," Carlos admitted as he followed Cecil's gaze towards a cluster that glimmered with a particular fervor. "But I can try my best, if you'd like."

"The stars - how far do they go on? Are they endless?"

"As far as we know," Carlos confirmed. "Our entire world is a tiny speck in a system in a galaxy in a universe that as far as we can tell is infinite." Overhead a single star fell out of place and tumbled across the sky before flickering out of view. "It's reassuring though, isn't it? That everything is so endless, and yet here we are in our infinitesimal sphere of existence still persisting, still living. We can imagine and create and feel boundlessly. And it's so beautiful." One of the things Cecil loved most about Carlos was his fascination with simple things like existence. Through his eyes, life itself was its own thrilling scientific anomaly to be handled delicately and researched with the utmost dedication. Cecil stopped watching the stars outright then, choosing instead to watch the way they reflected in the scientist's dark eyes. He had a theory that somewhere in those same brown eyes he could find an entire infinite universe all its own if he looked long enough. It was a theory he very much wouldn't mind taking the time to prove. Carlos caught him staring and gave him a curious little smile half-lit by the brightness of the gibbous moon. "Any other questions you think I might know the answers to?" Cecil looked back up at the sky for a long time. An immeasurable universe, a negligible existence, and yet he still felt so much trepidation at the idea of asking a simple question to the one person who had managed to give his comparatively miniscule life meaning.

"Do you want to get married?" He kept his voice steady and his eyes fixed on a single bright star as he forced the question through his uncooperative lips and out into the quiet night. There was a terrible moment of absolute stillness before Carlos replied.

"Is this a hypothetical question?"

"Of course," Cecil stumbled. Immediately he began to silently curse himself for the cop-out.

"Well, I guess I've never really thought about marriage," Carlos explained. "I was never much of a romantic before I met you. I only believed in things I could prove with science. But things change over time. People change. I suppose I believe in quite a few things now, so anything can happen." A pause, then a deep breath. "So am I acceptive to the idea of someday getting married? Hypothetically yes." Cecil went quiet. Words were always so natural to him until they suddenly weren't - usually when he needed them the most. Next to him, he could feel Carlos fidgeting in unease. Cecil inhaled slowly, exhaling the fragmented remains of the conversation that he couldn't quite piece together in favor of changing the subject.

"Why can't you sleep?" Cecil asked instead. Carlos pushed himself up into a sitting position, tucking his knees up to his chest.

"Just too many thoughts," he mumbled. "I can't get my mind to shut off. It happens a lot. I guess I do fall asleep for a while, but it's that kind of sleep where you can still feel your mind racing. I inevitably wake up again pretty quickly and then," he shrugged. "When I woke up, you were gone. I figured if I came up here I'd find you." Cecil sat up to match his position, carefully adjusting for the slant of the roof.

"You should wake me more often when you can't sleep. If nothing else, just for the company." Reaching out a hand, he brushed it along the scientist's cheek, traced it down his neck, dropped it to his hand where their fingers fit together so naturally. A hint of a smile danced along Carlos's face at the simple reassuring contact.

"It's the worst because I'm so tired. I want so badly to sleep, but every time I close my eyes there's just too much noise."

"Why don't you just focus on one thing to drown the rest out?" Carlos gave a dismissive little shake of his head. "I promise it's worth a try," Cecil persuaded. "Here, why don't you try lying down?" Carlos did as suggested, cautiously resting his head in Cecil's lap without upsetting their precarious balance. "Close your eyes, and focus on nothing but my voice," Cecil instructed with a kiss to his forehead.

"The moon is bright," he began in a soothing tone, not entirely unlike the manner he adopted during shows, but a touch softer. It was a voice he only ever used on specific occasions; the smile that immediately spread across Carlos's face implied that he recognized the special inflection only ever meant for him. "The world is quiet, and the night is beautiful." Softly his fingers began to twirl between the scientist's curls in wandering little circular motions. "On the opposite side of the moon, the secret lost pet city is abuzz with puppies and hermit crabs and salamanders all clamoring for attention. On the opposite side of the world, people are rushing through their day, attempting to balance the endless list of demands placed upon them. But this all happens far away. Right here all is, for once, peaceful." Carlos squirmed in his arms, adjusting into a more comfortable position facing away, but he kept his eyes closed obediently. Cecil continued at an even pace without pause. "The night is alive with whispers. The wind is sharing secrets with the trees; they're probably talking about you." Carlos ceased his restless stirring, and Cecil heard his breathing even into the patterns of a light sleep. He stopped watching the sky again, instead watching the way the moonlight refracted in little prisms off the silver patches in the scientist's hair as he tucked it carefully behind his ear. "The moon is beautiful, and you are so beautiful. The trees are still telling secrets that we will always be too young to know, but I will leave you with one last secret for you and me to share." For the first time in the private broadcast, his voice faltered momentarily before resuming its sonorous patterns at a level barely above a whisper. "It wasn't a hypothetical question. If you had known, I wonder what your answer would have been."

"Definitely yes," Carlos murmured drowsily into the flannel of his boyfriend's pants. Cecil's breath caught in his throat. He doubted Carlos would remember any of this in the morning, but at least for that singular moment, the answer had really existed somewhere between asleep and awake. For now that was all the reassurance he needed. With one last look at the distant stars to help steady the sudden flurry of emotions rippling through his body, Cecil leaned down to finish the broadcast in a whisper.

"Goodnight, my Carlos." He pressed one last kiss goodnight to the scientist's cheek as he slept soundly now in his lap. "Goodnight."

* * *

_End Notes: I got a request for a stargazing proposal fic and because that is the cutest combination ever, this happened. _


	5. Routine

_Mornings look a little different when you're sharing them with someone new._

* * *

Cecil is not a morning person. Not even a little bit. He isn't due at the station until 11; on a good day he'd have downed enough caffeine by then to be reasonably functional. It's been a routine for years, and traditions are something he does his best to uphold at all costs. But ever since he and Carlos decided to build a home together in a small, significantly dated house that leans slightly to the left, mornings have taken on an entirely new ritual. The first stirring starts with the kiss that he is never quite sure if he dreamed or not. The first actual knowledge of being awake comes several minutes later with the smell of brewing coffee and the sound of the shower running in its sporadic rhythm. He never leaves the bed until he gets one more kiss, a more conscious one this time that smells like soap and tastes like toothpaste. It's the reassurance that this new reality is much better than whatever fantastic world his dreams could ever create that convinces him to slip on an old jacket and moccasins and wander out to the kitchen.

Carlos cooks, humming along with the radio while he scrambles vulture eggs and cheese with just enough chopped peppers to add a kick, but never too much for his boyfriend's rather unadventurous tastes. Cecil sets the table and pours them each a cup of something warm; he likes coffee that's mostly sugar with a bit of cream, but Carlos prefers herbal tea with honey. And then they share something that Cecil's never been used to - a pause before the day begins. They discuss the day's plans over a simple breakfast, sip their drinks in peaceful quiet as the sun warms the worn carpet of the little dining room in mottled patches of dappled gold. Always too soon, Carlos dons his everyday lab coat while Cecil packs him a thermos of tea to take along to work. A lingering kiss goodbye, the click of the front door behind him, and another day begins.

The cadence is so organic, the way they move around each other in a natural rhythm like they've practiced the routine their whole lives. Cecil sips his coffee and muses about fate and if perhaps two people can really belong together in some cosmic way. Carlos sips his tea and scribbles into the margins of his notes to check the statistical probability of luck and compatibility. With another sip they both decide it doesn't matter, because - either by design or chance - this is their new reality. And neither of them would change it for the world.

* * *

_Sorry for taking forever to post something. Life has been busy and prompts have been slow. Feel free to drop by my tumblr at montressorspacep0rt if you have any fic requests or ideas for future chapters!_


End file.
